


The Problem with Parties

by Irrelevancy



Series: More than Friends [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bloodplay, Bragging, Degradation, Dom/sub Play, Flogging, Kink Negotiation, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Minor Character(s), No Sex, No Smut, Painplay, Play Party, Romantic Fluff, Sub Ace, Unnamed characters - Freeform, dom marco, just discussions of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 11:44:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20907131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irrelevancy/pseuds/Irrelevancy
Summary: Ace starts feeling insecure when other doms brag about how much pain their submissives can take. Marco sets him right.For Marco's birthday!





	The Problem with Parties

**Author's Note:**

> TIL [misconceived standards of "proper submissive behavior" can put a lot of pressure on subs to compromise their own boundaries](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qfpCBKoDrmE) (link to kink education video). I'm still working on the sub!Marco fic, but in honor of Marco's birthday, here's just a short little thing about how not to cave into peer pressure at a play party I guess.
> 
> No Sabo this time ;;
> 
> (End notes for content breakdown.)

“Twelve hours.”

Ace felt a shiver down his back at the proud brag, and his fingers, where they splayed on the leather arm rest, started to go pink, then pale with pressure along the nailbeds.

“A hundred strokes with the heavy flogger,” the other domme announced smugly, pulling her own sub up by the hoop in his collar until they were eye-level. “He loves bleeding for me, doesn't he?”

“A perfect pain slut,” was the first dom's louder proclamation. His fingers snatched into his sub's hair, yanking her head up until the full length of her throat arched long above her bright red leather choker. “Floggers, canes, whips—you beg for all of them, don't you?”

“Yes master,” came the wheezing answer, as the sub's head made jerky little nodding motions, even in a stress position like that. Well she certainly looked happy enough, Ace thought with a little frown.

“How about you then?”

The question came addressed at Marco, and Ace felt his own spine stiffening once more. An unhappy thrum of insecurity was eating out from under his skin—before he's even realized, Ace was halfway out the little footstool Marco had kicked to him when they first sat.

“How about me what, yoi?” Marco placidly replied. In all the times that Ace has seen Marco at these parties, the man had always been flawlessly polite toward other doms (a fact and demeanor that Ace greatly appreciated, and probably felt more things than appreciation for), reserving all his more enraptured attentions for submissives. He was doing that now, sparing the dom who spoke to him only a tepid glance, before looking at Ace with those deep, intent eyes.

“You two have played a few times, right?” the domme purred, stroking her crop with a lick of her lips. She had a half-mask on, as well as a thick mane of orange hair that covered most of the top of her face—but Ace could still feel her gaze inspecting him up and down. The arm rest creaked now under the force of his grip. “How much pain can he take, then?”

Insecurity morphed into panicked _competitiveness_, and Ace was all of a sudden in Marco's lap. He's been here many times before, and Marco's thighs between his were familiar. But there was something else, present and sizzling like ozone after the lightning but before the thunder. Something else present in the considering way Marco cupped his hand around Ace's hip.

“You must put him in his place,” the dom said. Whether it was meant as an observation or a directive Ace didn't know, but he knew he preferred neither. “I mean, look at that body. All those muscles.”

“So out with it already! How much pain does it take for him to go down?” The domme's voice was gleeful, and for all that Ace had come here knowing it was a public scene event, he was all of a sudden struck with the urge to hiss at her, _you don't get to know that!_ Sure, he hadn't exactly known Marco long, but what he was building with Marco, one play party at a time (no invite home yet from either side), was something _precious_. It wasn't for flaunting or dick-slash-strap-measuring contests between dominants.

Unless, of course, Marco felt differently.

Which would be, Ace thought in quite a strange way, fine. Marco was the dom, after all. In the rhythm of how these kinds of event often ran, that kind of conversation happened between doms all the time. Subs were measured by how much they could take, how perfectly submissive they are to even the most intense of sadists, and okay, sure, Ace could play that game, if Marco wanted him to. Ace had no doubt, after all, that in terms of technique, Marco had all these dominants beat—he had shopped around some before meeting Marco, and no one had been able to bring him down, through, and back out with the same level of genial dignity yet firm control as Marco. He trusted Marco. So, if what it took to prove to all these chumps that Marco was the best was strapping Ace to a St. Andrew's cross and having Marco wail on his ass with the biggest goddamn flogger they could find then fine, Ace was totally game—

A warm touch. Fingers first, then the whole palm following, pressing flat against his sternum. This was the gesture he and Marco often used at checkpoints throughout a scene as an OK-go. Ace hadn't told Marco (yet), but he_ really_ fucking loved it. He loved when, during a stand-up caning, Marco circled back in front of him, and Ace got to press his hand to the darkened skin of Marco's ink. He loved feeling Marco's heartbeat, sped up perhaps from the exertion of the striking, but always solid and steadying the moment Ace assured him the situation's green. He loved Marco touching his chest back, fingers sometimes playfully turning the touch into teasing strokes over more sensitive areas.

The same gesture was, now, as centering as it's always been, as it's meant to be. The presence of the other dominants and their _perfect pain sluts_ disappeared as quickly as twisting off the stovetop, and Ace's bunched up shoulders released their tension. He curled forward as he returned Marco's touch, and Marco grinned up at him, a loose, kind of silly thing. It wasn't an expression of dominance, Ace realized. It was an expression of _kinship_.

He was chuckling before he knew it, draping his arms over Marco's shoulders.

“Damn,” he murmured into the side of Marco's neck, tongue dashing out to lick the salty skin, “won't you keep me?”

“I thought it might've been too presumptuous to ask,” Marco confessed, voice tinged with embarrassment. “You did mention wanting to experiment more, yoi.”

“Yeah, with you, dumbass,” was Ace's mutinous response. So there they sat, a dominant with a goofy smile and a submissive above him, no collar no bruises no chains. The little circle of kinksters watched a bit googly-eyed at the seemingly sudden bloom of a conversation apt for shit like _romance_.

“Ah, I see.” Marco's tone was all apology, but the actual _sorry_ didn't manifest—there were still roles to abide by here, after all, and Ace actually did appreciate his choice to omit the word. “Then,” Marco said, voice and eyes and everything else going _very_ tender, “I think it's time to take you home yoi.”

Ace, heart skipping a beat, bit back a smile by actually biting down on Marco's collarbone. In response, Marco gave Ace's ass a playful tap and ushered them both up and standing.

“We're calling it a night,” Marco told the parties present, sparing the female submissive, who met his eyes, his usual kind-dominant smile. “Ace?”

It wasn't a call to get going, but a signal: _I know you want to say it yoi, so go right ahead._

Ace took a deep breath, and flexed his fingers.

“I don't like a lot of pain,” he declared, blunt as anything. Then, he shrugged it off, and offered a grin of his own all around. “Marco likes it though.”

“You know I do,” was Marco's murmured response, lips touching lightly against Ace's cheek. He wouldn't kiss Ace here—it was one of the hard No's Ace had put on his list when they first traded. On Marco's own list, kissing on the lips in pick-up play was a yellow, so Ace had been relieved by the ease of the negotiation. Now though... Now they were going to Marco's _home_, and Ace imagined there would have to be a new list, a new set of considerations, a new negotiation.

And Ace, for one, couldn't fucking wait. 

**Author's Note:**

> Unnamed dominants (though one of them is Sadie-chan) brag about how good their subs are at taking pain (with degrading language) and all of it is assumed consensual. Ace is insecure and briefly imagines proving himself as a sub by taking an intense flogging, but Marco & Ace both know he doesn't like that. There's some brief objectifying gestures toward Ace (not by Marco) but nothing out of line in a public kink event. And then it's fluff all the way out.
> 
> I really don't mean to paint the other doms in a bad light or the other subs in a weak light. Let's just assume everything those fellas are doing are all perfectly 100% consensual and sexy to all parties involved.
> 
> My [tumblr](https://touchmycoat.tumblr.com/) and my [kinktober tag](https://touchmycoat.tumblr.com/tagged/kinktober-2019).


End file.
